Heart of Fire
by Randomcat100
Summary: It's been 21 years since the Battle of Hogwarts. Willow Oxford, Lily Luna Potter, and Winter Malfoy are beginning their first year at Hogwarts. They're hoping for a relatively normal year – too much to ask for, really. Between Cornish Pixie infestations and trips to the Forbidden Forest, a normal year is anything ... full summary inside. First in the Heart of the Children trilogy.
1. Chapter 1

**Heart of Fire**

Author's Introduction: Thank you all, for checking out this story! This is my first story for Harry Potter, the epic series that was my childhood. It _is_ a next generation story of course – and the first in a trilogy of three stories. The trilogy is loosely based on a role play I do with my friend *Julie Tulips, and credit for the character of Winter goes to her. Please enjoy.

Full Summary: It's been 21 years since the Battle of Hogwarts. Willow Oxford, Lily Luna Potter, and Winter Malfoy are beginning their first year at Hogwarts. They're hoping for a relatively normal year – too much to ask for, really. Between Cornish Pixie infestations and trips to the Forbidden Forest, a normal year is anything but what they experience. It might help if the Flight From Death movement wasn't rising again.

* * *

**::**

The screech of metal on metal, the overwhelming feeling of excitement fresh in the air, an announcement over the PA: "_Attention passengers_. _The Express train to Norwich leaving in ten minutes from Platform Two_. " People running by, to and fro, while pushing trolleys. Shouting and laughing and _life_, whirling and existing all around her. Not just life, but Muggle life.

Eleven-year-old Willow Oxford, who had never set foot in "Muggle territory" before, looked every which way, craning her neck and taking in every square inch of polished glory that was King's Cross Station. She stopped to read notices and paused to pretend and cast spells on various things. Dad would shout to her to come along, or she'd miss the train, and she'd take one last lingering look around before racing to catch up.

"But _Muggles_, Dad," Willow Oxford argued. "I've never seen one before. Or their lodgings. I just think it's brilliant, that's all."

Oliver Wood cast a sidelong glance at his daughter. "You've seen your mother, haven't you? She's a Muggle." As she stopped to gaze at a poster, he added, "Come on, Willow – train leaves in seven minutes and you want to get a nice seat!"

Willow picked up her pace and went back to half-running. "Mum doesn't count," she explained. "She's never taken me to London – and neither have you, I'll thank you kindly – and besides. I hardly ever see her anymore. Sometimes I think I only have a close connection to her 'cause I have her last name, and even that's just because _Willow Wood_ sounds ridiculous. Oh – is this it?"

They'd come to a stop in front of a solid brick wall. Right between platforms nine and ten. Dad nodded, handed her the trolley. "You can close your eyes if you're scared. I'll be right behind you."

"I'm not scared," Willow lied, taking hold of the trolley. She gripped the handlebar tight enough to turn her knuckles white, and took off at a run. She closed her eyes when she was inches from the wall, but she kept going. She stumbled to a stop, cracking one eye open.

Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Willow grinned as she looked around. Her first time here, at Platform 9 ¾. The Hogwarts Express, great and red, sat gleaming as students clambered in. Mothers gripped hands of children, kisses given through open windows. Little brothers and sisters cried and waved.

Willow stood on her tiptoes and looked around. "Do you think Mum will be here to see me off? Can Muggles get through the barrier?"

Dad gave her a grim look. "Well, we'll see. I don't know if they can get through or not. But – hey, get back here …! – I want to talk to you for a few minutes, Willow." He beckoned with his chin and, grimly, she trooped to his side to join him near the trolley.

"The train's leaving any minute, Dad," Willow muttered, already knowing precisely what this lecture was about. Quidditch. As far back as she could remember, Dad had tried to teach her how to play Quidditch. Every lecture she'd endured involved Quidditch. She considered it a mighty fine sport, but she could only play so many times and hear Dad talk about it so many times and go to so many games before it grew tiresome. And sure enough, the first words out of Dad's mouth were:

"I want to you to try out for the team, Willow. No matter what house you're in. You know that, don't you, love? You'll be the best Chaser Hogwarts has ever seen."

She sighed. "First years aren't allowed, Dad. I _can't_ play Quidditch. Yet. I'm not even allowed my own broom."

"Harry Potter got onto the team in his first year. I should know, I – "

She was spared further Quidditch lecture by the mighty howl of the steam engine. Grabbing her trunk and the cage that contained her owl, Stargazer, she pecked Dad on the cheek and sprinted to the Hogwarts Express.

There were no words to describe how painful that run was. To describe how hard it was for Willow Oxford to turn away from her father and leave him, not to be seen again until Christmas. Four months from now. Her father, who she'd grown up with – Quidditch obsession aside. Ever since the divorce, she's spent most of her life in the air, on a broomstick, with _Dad_. As a conductor helped her onto the train before shutting the door behind her, she pressed one hand against the cool metal. "Dad …" she whispered. "Dad … "

The train was moving now and she fought the urge to tear the door open and jump back onto the platform. She didn't of course. Instead, Willow found a window and leaned out of it, searching wildly for her father. She didn't see him. The train was rapidly picking up speed and Dad was lost in the crowd. She could, however, see the famous Weasley family. That ginger hair was noticeable anywhere.

There was also, it seemed, a Weasley behind her, and Willow jumped as she saw the ginger-haired girl grab her shoulder in the reflection of the glass window. She turned, shoving her trunk out of the way with a mumbled, "Oh, sorry." She found herself looking into the brown eyes of a girl her age, with shoulder-length ginger curls and a broad grin.

"Hey," the girl said. "I like your owl." She bent down to examine Stargazer. The tawny owl screeched and ruffled his feathers, then promptly turned his back on her. The girl raised an eyebrow. "He's kinda rude, though, don'tcha think?"

Willow gave a mock scowl. "How dare you talk about my owl that way! But yes, Stargazer is a very rude owl. He nips me all the time, even when I feed him. I don't think I name him correctly when I chose _Stargazer_."

The girl smirked. "Stargazer? What a name. I like it though. It suits him, actually. He seems to have a sort of … dreamy look in his eyes."

Willow had no idea how an owl could have a "dreamy look in its eyes", especially Stargazer, but she ignored the girl's strangeness. "I'm Willow Oxford. First year."

Finally the girl stood. She cocked her head to one side, studying Willow before sticking out a hand. "Lily Luna Potter. First year, too."

The word _Potter_ stood out and Willow echoed in surprise, "Potter? As in, Harry? Are you his kid, then?"

Lily seemed not to hear. She took Willow by the hand and dragged her through the corridors of the train. The girls made their way along until they found a free compartment. Sliding open the doors, they sat opposite each other and took to staring out the window. Stargazer hooted and squawked, and this was the only sound, combined with the soothing rhythmic chugging of the train.

The first half of the ride was quiet. Lily began humming a tune to herself while they went. At last, Willow asked her, "So, what's it like having Harry Potter as your dad? I mean, is it exciting?"

Lily lifted a shoulder. "I dunno. It's sort of normal, I guess. The _Prophet_ never comes knocking or anything. There's just me, my dad, my mum, and my two very annoying brothers. And the owl. I haven't got my own owl. I didn't want my own owl. Dad says I couldn't take a Hippogriff, so I didn't see the point."

"A Hippogriff? Aren't they dangerous?"

"You only have to be polite with them," huffed Lily. "Everyone always says they're dangerous, but that's just because some person was stupid. Besides, imagine how wicked it would be to ride a Hippogriff!"

Willow could not fathom how riding a Hippogriff would be "wicked" but she let Lily imagine it. She changed the topic: "So, what house d'you think you'll be in?"

Lily leapt to her feet and brandished her wand, holding it out like a sword. Climbing onto the seat and balancing precariously atop it, she said with a dramatic flair: "_Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!_" Then, plopping back down again, she added, "Yourself?"

"Gryffindor, I think. My dad was a Gryffindor – Mum's a Muggle. Actually, my dad trained yours to play Quidditch."

"Oliver Wood?" Lily exclaimed in surprise. "Really? Wow. Who would've thunk? So, I take it you're pretty good at Quidditch, huh? Are you going to be on the house team? You should. I know _I'm_ trying out for Keeper in my second year. I've always wanted to be Keeper."

Before Lily could reply, she was cut off by the compartment door sliding open. A boy, a bit older than the girls, stood there. He had dark hair that hung in his eyes and was tailed closely by a taller, sleeker boy with white-blond hair. "There you are, Lily!" the dark-haired boy exclaimed. "I've been looking for you. Who's your friend?"

"My brother, Al," muttered Lily. "And his friend, Scorpius _Malfoy_. Both of them a real pain in the arse, too. Go away, Al – can't I have friends if I want to have them?" With a heavy sigh, she spoke as thought every word pained her: "This is Willow. She's Wood's kid, in my year."

"Willow Wood?" Scorpius smirked.

"Oxford," muttered Willow with a scowl. She scooted away from the boys and turned to gaze out the window. All her life, it had only been her and Dad. She'd grown up in a small home in the country, with fields and plenty of wide open spaces for Quidditch. She'd had almost no interaction with other children, only really seeing other people at Quidditch matches. If there was one thing that made her uncomfortable, it was being around other people – boys in particular. Almost everyone she met also seemed to be surprised she was eleven. Or ten. Or nine. Willow looked quite a bit younger than her age at barely four foot five, her wide eyes, and her long and tangled brown hair hiding most of her visage.

"Are you sure you're a first year?" a girl's voice drawled. She emerged from behind Scorpius. Already dressed in her Hogwarts robes, the girl carried herself with the sort of dignity only a born Slytherin could manage. Her face held a rare sort of childish beauty, with sharp cheekbones and eyebrows arched into a permanent frown. Her eyes were a deep blue, ice cold in every way, but wide, like a little girl's. Pale blond hair was tied in a bun behind her head.

"Who's this?" Lily asked in mock-fascination, leaning forwards.

Scorpius pulled her in front of him. "My sister. Winter."

Winter shook free and glowered up at her brother. "Let me go, Scorpius. I'm not a child."

Scorpius shoved her teasingly into the compartment. "You're considered a minor, and in my eyes that makes you a child. I am in no way denying my own child-ness. I am, however, an _older_ child. Now, get in there and spend some time with kids your age." With a slam the compartment door shut. He and Al disappeared.

Winter made a point of opening her copy of _Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them_, and, with a toss of her head, began to read it. Lily and Willow exchanged a glance, a shrug.

"We're, um, going to change into our robes?" Lily announced awkwardly. Like a question.

Those icy blue eyes flickered upwards. "You can do whatever you like. It doesn't concern me." And then back to her book.

Lily raised her eyebrows, rolled her brown eyes, and stood. Fluffing out her skirt, she offered Willow her hand. "Come on. Let's go."

Willow, all too grateful to escape the stiff reception from Winter, took it and the girls slipped out of the compartment. There was a small, cramped loo in which they changed into their robes facing away from each other. Changing into robes in a very small, moving room is not the easiest thing to do. But after a bit of toppling they each managed to make it out in one piece. (Or possibly two. Lily swore something nipped at her fingers while she buttoned her shirt. "It was in the _walls_," she insisted. "Look. See how my finger is cut?")

They regretted returning to the compartment. Winter Malfoy could not have been bothered to glance upwards when they arrived. Lily and Willow exchanged another glance. The rest of the ride consisted of the girls sitting in the compartment, staring out the window, an awkward blanket of silence between them.

It was a small mercy when at last the train pulled into the station. Winter stood, flouncing her pleated skirt, and, her chin held high, she marched out. Book hugged to her chest. She left her trunk up on the luggage rack. Willow and Lily began to gather their own trunks, as well as a stubborn Stargazer. A fifth-year girl passing by stopped them. "It's okay," she said. "They gather our stuff during the Sorting." She continued walking, brown ponytail bouncing behind her.

Lily and Willow followed the girl, hopping onto the platform. The famous Hagrid led them to small boats, which would carry them across the lake to the castle. Winter appeared, stepping lightly onto a boat and leaning back, causing the boat to rock precariously. Willow attempted to scamper onto a different boat, Lily at her heels. Hagrid stopped them. "No more'n four ter a boat."

He led them to the only free boat, the one which held Winter. She truly seemed to be winter itself, an emotionless ice storm of a girl. As the boats floated across the lake, she did not _ooh_ and _ahh_ at the spectacle that was Hogwarts castle. Not like Lily, Willow, and the gangly dark-haired boy that shared their boat. Her gaze seemed fixed on some distant point in the distant. The boy attempted to make conversation. "Hi, there. I'm, um, Stephen. Muggle-born. What house d'you think you'll get sorted into? Me, I bet I'm going to Hufflepuff. The kids I shared a compartment said I'll be one. They said I'm the epitome of a Hufflepuff."

"I'm going to Gryffindor," Lily answered without missing a beat. "_Where dwell the brave at heart_. Willow here – " she pointed at Willow – "is gonna be one, too. Her dad was one. So was mine. Harry Potter," she added emphatically.

This, of course, led to Stephen the Alleged Hufflepuff gushing and exclaiming, thoroughly awed. It was here that Winter glanced over at Willow, that omnipresent frown clear on her face. "Welcome to Hogwarts," she murmured with a half-chuckle. And she returned to gazing out over the lake. Always frowning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Heart of Fire**

* * *

Author's Note: I'm very stupid and I forgot to put this up on the last chapter ... my cover image for this story is actually a photo edit of Isabelle Allen on the poster for the 2012 movie of _Les Misérables_.

**::**

Chapter Two

The boats led them to a rocky shore, where the students clambered out with bright eyes. There was a great deal of pushing and shoving, shouts of, "Me first!" "No, me!" and Hagrid led them up to the castle.

Lily was still talking with Stephen the Alleged Hufflepuff, as Willow now referred to him in her head. He was at least a head taller than Lily, but she seemed happy to talk to him. Her shoulder-length curls bounced about and her brown eyes bright, she and Stephen the Alleged Hufflepuff trooped slightly ahead of the crowd. Willow found herself caught walking alongside Winter. The Malfoy girl's gaze was fixed straight ahead; she didn't even glance at Willow.

The trek into the school went on like this, although finally Lily left the side of Stephen the Alleged Hufflepuff and joined Willow. "He wanted to know _all about_ me and my family," Lily explained earnestly. "And he saw a picture of a Hippogriff once, and get this – he wants one too! Isn't that brilliant? I'm not the only person in the universe who wants a Hippogriff. Since you say you're going to be sorted into Gryffindor probably, can I show you something secret in the dorm? I have something very secret to show you."

Willow looked at her uncertainly. "Okay?"

Her grin widened. "It's in my trunk."

They were at the front doors of the school now. Hagrid, who was starting to remind Willow of a very large Father Christmas with his graying beard, raised one sizable fist and knocked at the large wooden door. The seconds seemed to tick by as the soon-to-be first years waited for an answer. To Willow it seemed an eternity before, at last, the door opened to reveal a narrow-faced wizard in a fine silvery cloak.

"Who's that?" whispered Willow, and Lily shrugged in response.

The wizard peered at Hagrid and the crowd of eleven-year-old gathered tightly behind him. Willow wished he would let them in, as it was starting to rain and the day was chillier than when she'd arrived in London. Involuntarily the girl began to shiver.

"Hagrid," the wizard said at last. "Thank you, Hagrid, I will take them from here." He pushed the door open wider and waved one slightly withered hand. "Come with me, children."

They trooped after the strange wizard in straight lines, like tiny soldiers preparing for battle. The large wooden doors shut behind them with a frightening bang, and then the torches began to light. Bolted to the stone walls, their flames flared to roaring life, warming the chill that had settled itself in their bones. They followed the wizard up one flight of stairs, down another, down this corridor, up another flight of stairs, around another corridor, and at one point he led them in a very wide circle around the perimeter of a seemingly empty room before they finally arrived in yet another corridor. The wizard pushed open one door to their left and waved them all inside.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," he said in a Scottish brogue that Willow had not detected beforehand. "I am Professor Chadwick, deputy Headmaster. I will be your Charms teacher as well, and hopefully you will all excel in my class. Surely Charms isn't the most difficult of subjects? I would give that honor to, perhaps, Arithmancy or perhaps the Study of Ancient Runes. Now, before the Sorting Ceremony begins, you will wait here until I return to escort you to the Great Hall. You may note this room is entirely empty – the last thing we need is all of you getting yourselves into some kind of trouble. Before I depart, however: who can tell me which are the four houses one can be Sorted into?"

It was a question a child could answer. Even the Muggle-borns knew the answer to this by now. Every hand in the room shot up, but one tall girl in the back of the room answered before anyone might be picked: "Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin!" She crossed her arms over her chest and looked very proud of herself. She fumbled with strings of her short brown hair.

Professor Chadwick gave her a cool glance. "Correct, if to a very simple question, Miss …?"

"Corey," the girl answered. "Thelma Corey."

The Professor gave another brief nod, and here he turned and exited the room. After a brief silence, the room exploded with expected chatter. In the midst of Professor Chadwick's monologue, Lily had managed to disappear again. Willow caught sight of her chatting yet again with Stephen the Alleged Hufflepuff. He was listening to her speaking with a great goofy grin on his face, his head bobbing up and down like an animatronic doll's. Winter, thankfully, was nowhere in sight. Willow was left to her own devices for the time being. To pass the time, she fiddled with her robes and listened in on nearby conversations.

A group of boys chatted about the Chudley Cannon's game last night, and how they simply _hammered_ the Harpies. A handful girls made small talk about brooms and another group of boys and girls talked excitedly about how they couldn't believe they were actually wizards or witches. Muggle-borns, Willow could only assume.

But her loneliness also left her to hear the faintest noises of giggling and cooing, that sounded very close by. She closed her eyes and listened harder. She'd never heard such a strange noise before … it was almost like a sort of screeching … but, now that she thought hard, it almost reminded her of …

"_CORNISH PIXIES!_" a girl with long blonde hair shouted in dismay. And then they appeared, whizzing in circles and already grabbing at hair and ears and the hems or f robes. Screaming ensued as the students began to panic, rushing about and racing in circles. In the empty room, they were like cattle fleeing in a pen. There wasn't any space to move quickly, and the screaming grew louder and more panicked. Willow felt a sharp little set of teeth sinking into her finger, causing her to yelp.

"Get off me!" she shouted at the pixie, who finally let go, giggling. She swatted at it, and the pixie blew her a kiss before flicking away. More of them appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, biting and grabbing. The poor Muggle-born children were distressed. One of the boys Willow had overheard was picked up by at least two dozen of them. Another girl was pinned down like Gulliver by what must have been fifty.

Willow felt little fingers pulling at her hair. She swatted blindly and in vain, but there were far too many of them … she screamed but hers were only lost in the screams of the countless others …

And then it was over. In the shock of it, Willow fell to the floor, rubbing at her head. Standing in the doorway to the room stood Professor Chadwick, his wand in the air. The Cornish Pixies, God bless their nightmarish souls, hovered in the air, seemingly frozen.

"Cornish pixies," Professor Chadwick explained briskly to the shocked first-years. "Terribly sorry. Now, if you're all quite all right, would you all follow me?"

As they began to file out of the room once again, Willow massaging her scalp, Lily caught up to her. The ginger-haired Potter girl was all but bouncing up and down, her locks looking slightly disheveled. Beaming, she asked Willow, "Was that not _brilliant_?"

"Maybe if you consider almost going bald brilliant."

Lily scowled. "That's what everyone is saying. They're just naughty is all. They're actually very sweet. I'd like a Cornish Pixie as a pet. Once, as a kid, I caught one and brought it home in a jar. Its name was Bluey – yes, I know, very original, but I was four - and I kept it for officially two hours before Mum found it. She freaked, told me to get rid of it. So I did. Sometimes, though, I still think of Bluey – oh!"

The doors to the Great Hall were opened. Again came the chorus of _ooh_s and _ahh_s. Willow craned her neck to look about as she stepped in, taking in every gorgeous detail that was the Great Hall. The ceiling was most fascinating to her – it seemed to be made of glass, for she could see the outside rain. It was a very strange effect, she pondered, for as she walked underneath it she could nearly _feel_ the rain. Not glass, but a spell.

There were candles floating above the long tables, their flames emitting a faint glow incomparable to the blaring light that filled the entire room with its warmth. However, the tables seemed to be empty: there was none of the glamorous feasts her father had described. Of course, there was the hat: the Sorting Hat on the stool, sitting there and looking as innocently hat-like as could be.

The Sorting Ceremony began as Willow expected it to go, just as her father told her. The hat sang a strange song using several words she didn't understand that sounded like either gibberish or Latin. And then the Deputy Headmaster, Professor Chadwick, began to read from the long list of names.

The first person Willow knew was Stephen the Alleged Hufflepuff. His last name was Bloom, and he was indeed Sorted into Hufflepuff. He passed Willow on his way to the table, and he winked with an, "I told you so."

Thelma Corey, the girl who'd spoken up in the little room with the Cornish Pixies in it, was sorted into Ravenclaw. Willow hoped she could answer questions more complex than what the four Houses were. In the _E_'s there was the blonde girl who'd first screamed. Her name was Lucia, and she was also sorted into Ravenclaw.

As Professor Chadwick read further and further down the list, Willow's heart pounded a bit harder. What if she wasn't sorted into Gryffindor, like her father before her? What if she wasn't in the same House as Lily? What if she was in the same House as Winter? This last thought she dismissed; Winter could only be a Slytherin and Willow was anything but that. She was in no way ambitious or manipulative, as Slytherins were.

After what must have been hours of waiting – and with a growling stomach; she was starting to feel hungry – she heard another familiar name being called. "Malfoy, Winter!" A hush fell over the students at the sound of the name _Malfoy_. Everyone knew, after all, that the Malfoys were affiliated with He Who Must Not Be Named during his time, the late 1990's.

Winter came forth with dignity – her chin held high and her back straight. Her cool gaze swept over the room as if daring them to judge her. She sat on the stool without slouching or shrinking down before all those eyes on her. Her hands folded neatly in her lap as Professor Chadwick placed the hat on her head. Willow expected it to shout "SLYTHERIN!" almost instantly, but after a long pause, it declared her a Ravenclaw.

Next to her, Lily's mouth fell open. "A Ravenclaw? _Her_? But it can't be, can it? She's a Malfoy! Scorpius is in Slytherin, though mind you, he is good friends with my brother and cousin … "

But Winter Malfoy became a Ravenclaw, and surely the first in her family in centuries. She marched over to the Ravenclaw table without a single glance at the Slytherin table, where her dumbfounded brother sat.

And so the list went onwards, and there were far too many _M_'s and _N_'s. "Manafo, Maria!" "Mandel, Jessica!" "Miller, Ralph!" "Moore, Sean!" "Nanos, Dominique!" "Norman, John!" But finally, after an eternity of waiting: "Oxford, Willow!"

Her heart stopped in her throat. Her mind began to race: _Oh God oh God oh God not now not now please not yet I'm not ready no please oh God_ …. She wore shoes of lead, every step an agony. She reached the stool. She sat down. She prayed the school couldn't see the way her hands trembled so. The hat fell over her head, covering her eyes. It was a small mercy not to see all those eyes on her.

There was a voice in her head. It made her jump at first, and it took Willow a moment to realize it was the hat speaking to her. "_Not a terrible challenge … we have some boldness and rebellion, certainly, but also a wanting to learn … such curiosity … no, you're not terribly difficult to place, my dear …_" She waited, praying. "RAVENCLAW!"

At first, Willow almost sighed with relief. Ravenclaw wasn't so bad. Until she remembered that Winter was in Ravenclaw. Suddenly her situation didn't seem quite so grand. Good God, she'd have to share a dorm with _Winter_!

She didn't sit next to Winter at the table.

From here, all Willow could do was wait for Lily. She hoped her possibly-friend would be Sorted into Ravenclaw, like her, but no such luck. When the name "Potter, Lily," was called, Lily was sorted – almost instantly – into Gryffindor.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so very bad. Perhaps she'd find a friend in Thelma, or Lucia, or the one other Ravenclaw girl so far: a skinny girl with dark skin, Jessica Mandel. She'd surely have _some_ classes with Lily, and they'd be able to spend time together on weekends, and after classes.

On the other hand, Winter was in her dorm. So perhaps not.

**::**

Her father had told her about the Fat Lady who guarded the Gryffindor common room. There was a password you had to memorize to get through, he'd told her. Willow had been expecting something similar. The Ravenclaw common room was not anything similar.

Located on the west side of Hogwarts, she and her fellow new Ravenclaws were guided up a winding spiral staircase by a dark-haired Prefect girl whose lip was curled in a permanent disdainful sneer. She introduced herself as Jacqueline. At the top of the stairwell was a simple looking door ornated with nothing but an eagle-shaped bronze knocker. The Prefect girl knocked at the door, and, to Willow's thrill, the knocker spoke: "First-years … I'll give an easier one today … "

"I hardly think that's necessary," Jacqueline sniffed.

The knocker ignored her. "If ten men dig a hole in three hours, how many men does it take to dig half a hole in the same amount of time?"

Willow stared. This made no sense. A riddle. They had to answer a riddle to enter the common room. She'd be sleeping outside every night! But a nervous Thelma answered, "Five?"

The door did not open.

A long pause, and finally Jacqueline replied: "It is impossible to dig half a hole; the men would simply be digging a smaller hole."

"Well reasoned," the door answered, and swung open.

The new Ravenclaws – twelve of them in all this year – stepped into the common room, perhaps a bit dumfounded. But the common room was pleasant and affable, making up for the bizarreness of the door. It was a spacious, circular room decorated with a deep blue carpet and a wonderful domed ceiling decorated with stars. There was a tall statue of white marble standing proudly in one corner – "Rowena Ravenclaw," explained Jacqueline.

Jacqueline showed the girls to the dormitories. The room was also circular, the four-poster beds with their cobalt blue drapes tucked into alcoves and pressed against the walls. Beds were assigned apparently, as their luggage was tucked under individual beds and animals were placed gently on night tables. Willow had a bed near one of the arched windows, with a mattress that was a bit too soft but she had extra pillows. This sufficed for Willow, and she flopped down at last onto her too-soft bed with its extra pillows, bid good night to Stargazer, (who nipped her), and fell asleep in her uniform.


	3. Chapter 3

**Heart of Fire**

Author's Note: The lessons used in this story will be based off of both the novel and the current online Hogwarts course, _Hogwarts Is Here_. We haven't received too many details about first-year classes in the book, only a general idea – hence my usage of the online course. I'll be using it to fill in the gaps. For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, _Hogwarts Is Here_ is an online project to create a real virtual Hogwarts for fans to "attend" complete with real homework and tests and constantly updates lessons. I strongly recommend you all take a look; it's absolutely brilliant!

Chapter Three

* * *

Willow woke to somebody shaking her shoulder violently. Drowsily she groaned and batted the hand away. "_Mmm_ … " she groaned. "Go away … sleeping …. " She rolled her head to the side and snuggled her cheek against the softness of her pillow, enjoying its soft feel against her cheek. Why would she want to leave this safe, cozy, cocoon of blissful warmth and brave the chill outside, and worst of all, have to be _awake_? No, she wanted to sleep. Sleep was good.

The shake became more fierce. "Wil-low! Get up! C'mon!" Now those hands were slapping her face gently, enough to make Willow moan. Under the hazy fog of sleep, she began to recognize the voice as Lily's. But that made no sense … Lily was a Gryffindor; she couldn't have made it into the Ravenclaw common room … she didn't know the password … wait, what password…? There wasn't any password required to get into Ravenclaw Tower …

Her mind meandered and turned gently, coming to this confused realization as the next slap came, a bit harder, and she opened her eyes. Lily Luna Potter was indeed leaning over her, ginger hair and all. The Gryffindor girl grinned as Willow opened her eyes and bounced backwards to the floor. "Good. You're awake."

The sight of her began to register – the way she stood there over Willow, in her nightgown, her ginger hair a mess, that mischievous grin on her face and the sparkle in her brown eyes. "Come on, Willow!"

At last, Willow managed to awaken enough to speak. " … what the _bloody hell_ are you doing in my _bloody _dorm?" Cursing felt oddly liberating and all too suitable. She sat bolt upright, glowering at Lily. "And how did you get in? Go away; I'll see you at breakfast!"

Lily came closer. "We have to go – come on, then! I've already got a candle for when we're outside. I haven't got my dad's Invisibility Cloak, but I _do_ have a dark shawl we can wear and it'll hide us more or less."

"I … why are you here?"

The Potter girl tossed a large black cloak at Willow. "Put that on, and be quiet. We're going to the Forbidden Forest. _Obviously_."

Willow knew she shouldn't go. She knew that the Forbidden Forest was dangerous and Headmaster Longbottom had said it was strictly forbidden himself. Hence its name. She was exhausted. So there was no reason for her to want to go. Except for that sweet, tickling, longing for a bit of adventure. A whisper of mischief.

She climbed out of bed. "Let's not be long."

Lily's grin widened. "Brilliant," she whispered. "Now, best not make any noise. You don't want Malfoy catching us. Real shame she's in your House, actually …" Then, as if she'd only just realized she was speaking, her mouth shut and spread into that same smile. Taking one corner of the dark shawl and wrapping it around herself, she and Willow slipped out of the dorm, down the steps, into the common room. Out the door and down the spiral staircase that lead to Ravenclaw Tower.

The entire time, Willow's heart was pounding fast. She was terrified, utterly terrified. Living and breathing the freedom and fear that this night's little adventure was. She and Lily didn't make a sound as they crept through the corridors and down Hogwarts' countless flights of stairs. Neither wore shoes, and the cool stone felt good beneath Willow's bare feet. Even so, her toes were starting to go numb and she found herself wishing she'd been clever like Lily and put on some socks.

At last, they found themselves before the front doors. They crept out silently. Underfoot, the earth was cold and hardened, and to Willow it seemed every twig and stone held something against her as they scraped her toes. "Isn't it dangerous?" Willow pressed, not fully sure why she was nagging when she wanted to badly to have a taste of freedom.

Lily cocked her head to one side as if she'd only just started considering this. At last, she said, "Well … we could always ask Hagrid. My dad used to sneak out of the castle a lot as a kid. And Hagrid was his friend, so maybe – "

"Somehow I doubt he'd approve of us sneaking out of the castle at night to visit the Forbidden Forest," Willow answered wryly. "Why don't we go to the Quidditch Pitch? Have a look around?"

**::**

They ran through the stands and across the pitch. It was enormous, and Willow craned her neck to take in the darkened sky, imagining her own father flying on his broom, floating in front those very hoops and swiftly blocking any Quaffles that might have passed through. He'd showed her his old school broom, a Cleansweep Seven. He always made sure, of course, Willow had the best broom she could have as she grew up. By the time Willow was seven she owned a Firebolt Two, which she felt very proud of.

At long last, Willow and Lily began to return to the school building. They'd taken a look at the changing-rooms and played a game of Tag on the Quidditch pitch. Childish, perhaps, but with all the wide open space, the temptation was irresistible. As they trooped back to the school, they took a shortcut underneath the stands.

"You _promise_ we're going back now?" Willow demanded.

"Cross my – oh! Shush … "

"What've I done?"

"Shush, I said! Listen … "

Willow listened. At first she heard nothing – just the wind and her own fast-beating heart, soaring with the adrenaline of running. But if she focused very hard, she could hear it. The chirping and giggling, a sound that was familiar, one she'd heard not long ago. In a small room, as she waited to be sorted.

It was the sound of Cornish Pixies.

**::**

They found them in a jar, shoved hastily underneath the seats in the Hufflepuff sector. There were only a handful of them, perhaps eight or nine. The creatures bared sharp little teeth and clawed at the glass which contained them. They chirped as Lily approached.

"Hello there," she cooed, to Willow's confused dismay. "Hell-_o_. Who put you here, huh? What are you doing here? I'd set you free, but you'd probably sabotage the school right after finishing off my friend and I … "

Lily spoke to the Cornish pixies as she might a little child, a toddler. At last, the Gryffindor girl stepped back and joined Willow under the warmth of the shawl. "Weird," she said thoughtfully. "Who'd put Cornish pixies here?"

Willow thought she might have to start dragging Lily away. It must have been an hour since leaving the school; if they weren't careful they'd be found out. Luckily, her friend began to walk hurriedly towards the school, Willow dragged along behind her.

The girls were quiet as they darted up the steps to their opposing dormitories. At the Great Hall, both parted ways, hurrying to their own dorms. The bronze door knocker practically squawked as Willow reached it. She hissed a curse softly, under her breath.

"_Why do angels have wings?_" the eagle asked her.

Willow, shivering slightly in her uniform, her bare feet covered in dirt, glared at the knocker. "Oh, just let me in. It's late. Or early. Same thing, really. What sort of question is that?"

Again, the eagle asked her, "_Why do angels have wings_?"

What sort of question was that supposed to be? It was a bloody _stupid_ question; it made no sense. Willow crossed her arms and scowled. "Just let me in already. Come on. Be a nice eagle for once."

"_Why do angels have wings_?"

It was all she could do not to drop to her knees right there and sob. "I don't know! I don't bloody well know! Why won't you just let me in? I'm going to be caught if you don't shut up."

"_Why do angels have wings_?"

"I don't _know_, I said. Can't you ask me something else? No? Fine. Fine. Angels have wings because they fly. They need the wings to fly. There. Satisfied?" She waited, tense, praying silently to those angels who had wings for God-knew-why, even if she'd never prayed before in her life.

Movement. Noise. Coming from behind her. Willow gasped, her hand clasping over her mouth. God. Oh, sweet God, not now. Not a staff member. She'd be punished for sure, put in detention or have House points removed before the year even started. The sound came closer and in a fleeting moment, she darted to hide behind the only piece of furniture on the landing: a broken chair. It was a pathetic hiding place but it wasn't as if she had any other options right now.

Now she could see the person. Not a member of staff, but a student. The mysterious Ravenclaw (or presumably Ravenclaw) was a girl. Not a Prefect, she was too short for that, and she wore her own nightgown. On her feet were a pair of slippers.

Without turning around at all, the girl said: "You might as well come out, Willow Oxford, unless you want to spend the night behind that chair."

_Winter_. Hastily, Willow scrambled out from behind the chair, unsure whether to be relieved or humiliated. She stood there, next to Winter, wriggling her dirty toes. "Er," was all she said.

_Yes, Willow, such a clever statement. Really, you deserve some kind of award._

"Well?" Winter said. "Aren't you going to knock?"

Willow knocked.

The eagle answered her, "_Why do angels have wings_?"

Willow groaned. "See? Same question. It makes no sense."

"It makes total sense," Winter said coolly. "Obviously you're not the brightest Ravenclaw ever lived." Then she answered, carefully enunciating each syllable, "We see things the way we want to see them."

"Well reasoned," the door replied, and swung open.


	4. Chapter 4

**Heart of Fire**

Author's Note: So, I'm aware that this chapter is up a little late, and I'm sorry about that, but I am within reason. I noticed that I haven't been getting too many reviews, so while I promise I _won't_ delete this story, I'm just putting my other story, for Les Mis, first. It has more readers, so I try to update for them a little more frequently under the oncoming pressure of final exams.

And yes, like the one before it, this chapter is unforgivably short. It is an important one though, and I wanted to focus on the plot points of it as opposed to some spunky moments with Lily (not that they aren't fun to write!) I hope to have a new chapter up soon.

**::**

* * *

Chapter Four

Willow followed Winter through the door. The Malfoy girl walked with that same air of confidence she seemed so prone to. The two girls sat down, almost involuntarily, across from each other, in midnight blue armchairs. Winter crossed her legs. Willow tucked hers underneath her.

"So," Winter said after a long moment of silence. "What were you doing out late at night? I was visiting my brother."

"You allowed to do that?"

"No, but do I look like someone who really cares?"

A laugh escaped Willow at this, for reasons of which she was unsure. Perhaps it was the bluntness of the comment, its honest simplicity. Perhaps it was the strangeness of Winter being relatively warm. No, not warm. That wasn't the adjective one would apply to describe Winter Malfoy. But she was a bit kinder, gentler, and not that dominant, distant, icy girl she'd come to know over the past several hours.

Winter gave her an odd look but – oh, the universe must have been rewriting itself! – she smiled slightly. "No, really. Why were you out so late? Not visiting your brothers?"

"No … I met up with Lily and we went to the Quidditch pitch." Willow confessed. Here she mentally cursed herself for replying honestly. Just because Winter was acting oddly didn't mean that she wouldn't use this precious knowledge to her own advantage. Perhaps she'd tell a staff member, and then where would she be?

Winter shook her head. "You just … went to the Quidditch pitch? For no reason? My, you should have been a Gryffindor."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Willow retorted. She stifled a yawn before continuing: "My dad was a Gryffindor. Oliver Wood. Wait. I think I already said that, didn't I?"

Winter sighed heavily. "Yes, you have. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed." Here she rose, and with her chin held high, she marched up the stairs to the girl's dormitories. Willow waited a minute, then two, before following.

She'd been expecting to see Winter Malfoy in bed, her back turned and curtains drawn, shutting the world outside away from her. Instead, she found the blonde sitting cross-legged, curtains open, with a wand in her teeth and a scroll of parchment on her lap. The wand glowed slightly with the faint light of the Lumos charm. It was a weak one. Winter was hunched over the parchment with an oversized quill in her hand, scratching away.

"What're you doing?" Willow asked softly, starting towards her.

Winter's head snapped up and she quickly dropped her quill and pulled the wand from her mouth. "It would be terribly nice if you left me alone. You really _don't_ below in Ravenclaw. Don't Ravenclaws usually keep to themselves, with their little books and notes?"

Willow hadn't heard anything about that, so she only shrugged and sat on the edge of Winter's mattress. She was unsure why she was doing this; acting like the Malfoy girl was her friend or something. Which she wasn't. This time, Winter only stared at Willow before returning to her writing. She didn't put the wand in her mouth this time.

"What _are_ you writing?" Willow asked again, even more softly this time. Her voice was barely more than a gentle whisper, the _hush-hush_ of the faintest breeze, the skittering of autumn leaves on pavement.

Winter didn't answer, and eventually Willow returned to her own bed. She turned her back on the Malfoy girl and drew her curtains before falling back into a deep sleep. Her final thoughts as she drifted off were strange ones indeed, and surely affected by the tired, bleary state of her mind at three o'clock in the morning. But those little thoughts still snuck their way into her head.

She wanted, in a very odd way, to be friends with Winter Malfoy. Good friends who'd sit together at meals and Quidditch matches, and mock each other for banal things, and exchange laughs, and break rules. The sort of relationship Willow was starting to develop with Lily.

Lily, Willow, and Winter. Three girls borne from red and gold, blue and bronze.

It actually didn't sound half bad. Kind of eloquent, actually, Willow rewarded herself, just before sleep claimed her completely.

**::**

As luck would have it of course, she only received a few hour's sleep before she heard Thelma, the girl with the short dark hair, clapping her hands and shouting, "All right! All right then! Get up! We need to get up early!"

Willow rose her head from her pillow blearily. Thelma was pacing the room, clapping her hands. "Up! Up!"

"Thelma, you're mad," croaked the blonde, Lucia. "It's barely six in the morning. Go back to bed!"

"I'm your older cousin. You have to do what I tell you to do, Lucia. C'mon, then … get up!"

"Older by two months," Lucia groaned, as she dragged herself from bed.

In the distraction, Willow curled back up on the bed and shut her eyes, hoping for some more precious sleep. But soon – too soon – she felt a pillow hitting her over the head.

She opened her eyes. "Wake up, Willow," Thelma said. She was leaning over Willow, her dark eyes wild with excitement. "We gave you an extra ten minutes, seeing as you're already dressed."

"What'rewedoing?" Willow mumbled, letting the words merge together in a sort of slur.

To this, Thelma sighed heavily and said slowly: "We're organizing a study session in the common room. We need to be ahead of everyone else!" She bounced up and down a little bit. "I've already convinced Jessica, and Lucia. She's my cousin. Winter's coming too, and now _you_ are!"

Five cloudy minutes later, Thelma had hauled piles of textbooks and arranged them in piles. She seemed terribly excited and she flipped through her History of Magic. She surveyed her fellow first year Ravenclaw girls, who sat blinking tiredly before her.

"Do you want me to quiz you?" Thelma asked hopefully. Four heads shook slowly in perfect synchronization. Winter was, quite naturally, the first to stand and object.

"We're going to get back to bed now, Thelma Corey. I won't be dragged around and forced to participate in your little study group, thank you. It's six-thirty and I'm going to go have a shower. I won't be disturbed." Then, turning and exiting, she marched out of the common room.

Thelma looked disappointed. "Don't you want to study? We should be ahead of the classes. I mean, we're Ravenclaws! That's what we're _supposed _to do." She seemed to be very distressed about this. "We're _Ravenclaws_. All the houses are supposed to do their own original, unique thing, and we're supposed to be clever._"_

Willow awkwardly stood and said softly, "You are clever, Thelma. You're a Ravenclaw, aren't you? We all got sorted last night and we're Ravenclaws. Clever, all of us."

Thelma stared hollowly, her teeth clenched. "That's what we're supposed to be," she said softly. "We're supposed to be clever."

Willow stayed. She studied with Thelma for History of Magic, and even though it bored her to death, she went on and let Thelma quiz her. Let the strange, strange Ravenclaw girl quiz her on the Goblin Rebellion, and the foundation of Hogwarts, and – the only thing that really fascinated her – the Battle of Hogwarts, 1998.

"My dad fought in the Battle of Hogwarts," Willow announced suddenly.

"A lot of people's mums and dads did," mumbled Thelma, averting her gaze. "If they were the right age. Now, can we focus, please?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Heart of Fire**

Disclaimer: I have not yet discovered a way to possess J.K. Rowling. Therefore, I do not own _Harry Potter_ in any shape or form. I own only the plotline of this story and the characters of Willow and Stephen, as well as a few of their professors.

* * *

Chapter Five

Later that morning, at about eight, Willow headed down to breakfast. She went alone, and felt very proud of herself when she didn't get lost. On the way down, she stopped to inspect the portraits on the walls. She hadn't seen any moving paintings before – just pictures of Quidditch players Dad supported – and the grandiose effect of the Renaissance pictures in their golden frames overwhelmed her. The way their eyes followed her as she trotted slowly down the steps, her black flats tapping out a rhythm to be heard everywhere, the sound of it echoing in the castle. Several of the paintings greeted her as she passed them: "Oh, you're a Ravenclaw! That was my House, you know, when I went to this school in 1837!" "Heading to breakfast, my dear? Well, if you are, be sure to try the porridge before it gets cold … " "Make more noise with those shoes of yours, why don't you, girl? You're only bothering the entire castle!"

There were times when Willow felt like a Muggle-born. It sounded silly, perhaps, but the life she'd lived with her Dad was relatively secluded (they rarely traveled to Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley), and it was very biased towards Quidditch. It was a good life, and she loved her father, but at Hogwarts, she still felt as if she were just discovering magic. From the ancient grandness of the castle to the enormous library she'd seen – which already felt as if it was beckoning to her – Willow was giddy, a five-year-old on Christmas morning.

At last, she arrived in the Great Hall. Craning her neck, she took a good look at the ceiling. Today was going to be chilly, apparently, judging by the gray sky and light rainfall. Her wonderment wouldn't last long, however.

Lily greeted Willow the moment the young brunette arrived in the Great Hall. Her ginger hair flashed as she darted over, grabbing her new friend's hands as she dragged her over to a table. The ginger girl sat down and patted the spot on the bench next to her, which Willow hesitantly took.

"Aren't we supposed to sit with our Houses?" asked Willow.

Lily smirked. "Nah. Nobody cares, really. My brother Al is best friends with a Slytherin and they sit together all the time. You have to sit with your own House at ceremonies and whatnot, but mostly they don't care." She poured herself a glass of orange juice and took a long swig from it. Then, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she added in explanation, "My brothers told me."

As if on cue, a tall and gangly boy that didn't really look like Lily came up from behind. He looked to be a few years older, with dark hair that fell in a fringe over one eye. The only similarity he bore with Lily were his eyes: deep and brown and full of that same mischievous gleam.

He ruffled Lily's hair, and she swatted at his hand in annoyance. Without turning to look at him, she stated emphatically to Lily, "And _that_ would be my _very_ annoying brother James. Whom is even more of a pain in the arse than Al."

"It's a very tough act to follow," James said knowingly. He sat down next to Lily. "So, what classes do you have today? I need to know where to pick you up from when I cut History of Magic."

Lily sighed. "Transfiguration first, then Charms, then double Astronomy. Tea. Herbology after – "

James held up a hand. "All I need to know, sister. I'll be outside of Greenhouse One, waiting to annoy you and escort you to your next class." Swinging one leg over the bench, he stood again and sauntered off, only acknowledging Willow with a nod.

"I told you he's a pain," was all Lily said.

**::**

The rest of the morning would pass by agonizingly slow for Willow. She'd been looking forward to Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms but they wound up reading passages from the textbooks, which was painfully _dull_.

The very worst, however, had Potions and it became apparent that Willow had inherited a form of her father's genes for being total and utter rubbish at the course. More accurately, that gene could be described as the Gryffindor Gene, a trait which nearly every Gryffindor carried and only a lucky few had escaped – among their numbers, the famous Hermione Granger.

The teach was Professor Ross, a middle-aged woman with a Scottish accent. It was not as strong as Professor Chadwick's, and in fact sounded much more like Willow's slight brogue. She came off as kind, but stern – especially, it would seem, with Willow. This occurred when Willow's potion exploded slightly. Though it didn't harm anyone, it _did_ burn a hole through an irritated Hufflepuff girl's roll of parchment.

"I expect better of a Ravenclaw, Miss Oxford. And of a fellow Scot. Did you know that circa 1340 the Scots were well-known for brewing excellent potions?"

Willow winced slightly. "Yes, Miss. Sorry Miss."

"Try again, Miss Oxford. You still have twelve minutes left. Perhaps I'll be able to grade you on what you complete." And here Professor Ross continued, but not without flashing Willow a stern glare that made her insides churn.

It was on their way out of class that Winter tapped her shoulder. Willow huffed in annoyance as the Malfoy girl pulled her aside. Crossing her arms over her chest, she glowered furiously. "What do you want?"

Winter's expression reflected, in return, a cold irritation with just a flash of fire. "She'll probably take House points off for what you did there."

"So? She can't have taken off more than five. That isn't hard to get back. Wait until Charms. You'll see. I'll win us back twenty."

Winter sighed heavily and turned away, tossing her head in a graceful motion that caused her white-blond hair to catch the light of the torches bolted to the walls. "No you won't," she said knowingly. "But you can pretend." Books still hugged to her chest, she marched off, her shoes clicking and echoing in the dungeon corridor.

Willow stared after the Malfoy girl. Huffing in annoyance, she took on the attitude of a true and proper Scot and marched down the corridor and up the stairs. On her way, she nearly ran into Stephen the Confirmed Hufflepuff, as she now called him. Stephen was in her Potions class, but she hadn't spoken to him or sat by him. Part of the reason was that she was still in a lamentable mood after the disappointment that was Defense Against the Dark Arts. The other, that she was afraid of humiliating herself. Which she'd done.

"Hi, Willow," Stephen the Confirmed Hufflepuff said cheerfully.

"Hello, Stephen," she muttered. "Had a right good laugh at me, then? For being rubbish at Potions?"

"Your dad was a Gryffindor, wasn't he? It only makes sense," Stephen said seriously, and Willow laughed. She slowed her pace and lightened her step to keep in time with his slight trot.

"Some kid I met on the train said it was genetics," Stephen explained. "I think so too. I'm not very good either, but at least mine didn't explode. Eleanor – she's the girl whose paper you burned, actually – was the one. Her parents were both Gryffindors too apparently. And both of them rubbish at Potions. She told me all about it."

"Are you usually this chatty?" Willow asked wryly.

"I'm a Hufflepuff," was the dark-haired boy's retort, and this made Willow laugh again. They had Charms together next apparently, and this time they took seats next to each other.

That hadn't stopped it from being a complete and utter _bore_, though.

**::**

Tea was a small blessing, and Stephen the Confirmed Hufflepuff and Willow headed down to the Great Hall together. There they saw Lily, hunched over a piece of parchment with a quill in hand, her food untouched. She was drawing something, a monster of some kind. The two joined her and she looked up, token grin prominent and the signature twinkle in her eyes forever present.

"Hey. Do you feel you had a valuable learning experience this morning?"

"Absolutely not. What's for lunch?"

Lily rolled up her parchment and tucked in into her satchel before contemplating the array of food in front of her. "Sandwiches. Salad with Butterbeer dressing, which is amazing by the way. Tea, of course. Oh! And also licorice wands in that bowl over there." She helped herself to a licorice wand, which she began to chew on happily.

Willow and Stephen the Confirmed Hufflepuff also took a licorice wand each. For a moment they were silent, allowing the chatter in the Great Hall to fill the emptiness. At last Willow questioned, "What were you drawing?"

"A Cornish pixie. I saw one today when I was crossing the grounds. See, I got bored during Astronomy and I took a walk. And that's when I saw the Cornish Pixie. It was sitting on a tree branch. Only it didn't come down to rip my hair out for some reason, so maybe it liked me."

Willow frowned, not questioning the fact that Lily had decided to skip a portion of her class. She figured that this was going to become a bit of a pattern for her Gryffindor friend. "So you saw another one. That's weird. First the attack before the Sorting, then the jar of them at the Quidditch pitch – "

"There's a jar of Cornish pixies at the Quidditch pitch?" Stephen the Confirmed Hufflepuff piped up.

Lily nodded. "Mmhm. We saw it ourselves. We still have lots of time before tea ends, so we can show you. If you like."

Stephen looked between the ginger girl and his food, then back again. "At least let me finish eating?"

Lily waved a hand, as if granting permission for him to continue. He seemed to accept this, as well as the fact that the Potter girl would probably wind up being the boss of him, and resumed eating. _He was such a Hufflepuff_, thought Willow.

When at last the dark-haired boy was finished, Lily grabbed him by the hand (perhaps a bit more roughly than necessary) and pulled him along, out the Great Hall, up and down weaving staircases, down corridors, in and out of rooms, Willow laughing and hurrying to keep up with them. Perhaps it wasn't the most _convenient_ way to reach the Quidditch pitch, but it was easily the most … magical. There was something thrilling about the way they ran, all three of them, together, as if suspended in time.

There was just something _fitting_ about the image of it all, like an old picture. A scene in a film. Willow knew what films were. Once, when she was eight, her father had taken her to Muggle London, and they pretended to be Muggles and do Muggle things. Mum, the real Muggle, hadn't been there. She never was there. But Willow and her father had a brilliant time. They went to the cinema and saw a movie. She didn't remember it anymore, but she did remember some of the beautiful shots in that film.

The Quidditch pitch was empty, as everyone was at lunch. As Lily freed him, Stephen looked around the pitch. "Where are the Cornish pixies?"

"In the stands, stupid," Lily shot back. She grabbed his arm again and yanked him to the stands. The trio ducked under a drapery covered in red and gold, the Gryffindor colors, and wove their way through the labyrinth of discarded Chocolate Frog wrappers, wooden bars, and omnifarious colored pieces of cloth – what they were doing there, Willow hadn't the foggiest.

Before long they heard the familiar chirping of the pixies could be heard. Stephen the Confirmed Hufflepuff looked at Lily in surprise. "I thought you were joking."

"Why would I joke about something that brilliant?"

"I don't know."

"Why would I go all the way out here? That's stupid. Anyway, come take a look." She dropped Stephen's arm again, and led the way to the jar of pixies, Willow at their heels.

They were still there, screeching and screaming and chirping, beating tiny blue fists against the glass. The eleven year olds gathered around the jar and all took a close look at it. Willow touched her fingers to the glass, which caused pandemonium in the jar. The pixies went wild.

"Why are they here?" Willow asked softly. "It just doesn't make any sense."

Stephen the Confirmed Hufflepuff shrugged. "Maybe somebody caught them and hid them here." Then, as if only just realizing how silly his explanation sounded, he shook his head. "Er. Never mind."

"They're here for a reason, that's for sure," Lily stated bluntly. She hopped to her feet again and smoothened her skirt. "I think I want to find out why."


End file.
